Ice Work
by Isolde Jansma
Summary: The Enterprise is asked to assist with a little problem on a mining satellite... Something I wrote a looong time ago, which has been seriously revised to make it a better read - she hopes. :P Published way back by ScoTpress.
1. Chapter 1

**Captain's Log, Stardate 48533.2 : We are en route to a mining operation run by the Magna Corporation, orbiting Alpha Draconis 255 in sector 80, due to a request for technical expertise from Dr. Karl Raeburn, the geologist in charge of the resident science team.**

**There have been some anomalies appearing on the surface of the satellite they are currently mining and it is these that we have been asked to assist with and what they might be. Dr. Raeburn feels they could be the work of unknown alien species, which places Enterprise in the role of diplomat, and as first contact. **

**However, what these anomalies are remains to be seen, as they may also be formed by the shifting geological patterns in the moon's crust.**

* * *

Data said, "Sir, we are approaching Alpha Draconis. Estimated time of arrival ten point three minutes."

Picard raised his head from the display he was reading. "Thank you." He glanced over at Riker, "Would you join me, Number One? Mr. Data, you have the bridge." Picard rose and made his way through to his ready room closely followed by the First Officer.

He sat heavily in his chair, and moved his fingers swiftly over the console instantly bringing a 3-D representation of the Alpha Draconis system into a semblance of life before them. Riker, placing both hands on the desk, leaned forward and looked carefully at its slowly revolving form.

It wasn't a system that could be described as anything but ordinary. A F2 main sequence star with no habitable planets – or at least nothing any humanoid would want to live on; nothing except a rather ordinary gas giant, somewhere in the region of Saturn, for comparative size, with a system of rings and rather fewer moons than you would expect. Save for one, which was big, icy, and had enough gravity to allow a thin atmosphere of sorts to cling to its scarred hide with amazing tenacity. It was the mining community's current 'home' and had the unprepossessing name of "Moon".

"Well," Riker drawled, "I'll give them that they seem to have a lack of originality for names." His eyes twinkled a little as he looked as his Captain. "'Moon' has to be the most disreputable place in this sector; it has quite a reputation for trouble."

"Hmm," said Picard and switched off the display before leaning back in his chair and taking in the tall frame of the First Officer. He considered his response. "It has never been proven categorically, but there are those that believe there is some kind of nefarious movement involved in smuggling that uses this satellite or one of the others as a base of operations."

Riker straightened, tugged his jacket into place and looked thoughtful. "Well, I have heard the rumours, Captain, but here?" He grimaced slightly. "There aren't that many places to hide something that substantial." He eyed his Captain thoughtfully. "So, are we here to investigate these weird happenings or is there a more covert reason that the Federation would like us to look into? I'm not so certain I'm happy playing galactic policeman."

"True," agreed Picard. "But then, people are endlessly inventive and where there's a will, there's generally a way, and if there is another reason that we've been sent here, I have yet to hear it." He thought on this for a moment, and then asked, "Have you decided on an away team, Will?"

"Data, La Forge and Worf," Riker stated. "This is the sort of thing they like to get their teeth into, and it's good experience for Data with all that happens on this snowball…"

Despite himself, Picard gave a little bark of laughter. "Far be it from me to question your judgement, Will, but I would enjoy a discussion with you at a later time to ascertain those reasons for your choice."

"That would be my pleasure, sir," said Riker, and grinned as they both rose to leave the ready room.

As they came back onto the bridge, the gas giant began to fill the view screen and 'Moon' came into view, a pinkish sheen to its surface as it reflected the dull light from its primary, its thin sheet of atmosphere hazing as the sunlight hit it. Data deftly took the Enterprise into orbit around the satellite, and without turning, he said, "Orbit established, Captain."

"Very good, Data."

"Sir," Worf said from tactical. "We are being hailed."

"Let's see 'em, Worf," said Riker and sat down beside his Captain, watching the transmission begin.

A human male appeared on screen, a little tired looking, with a few days worth of unshaved stubble making his face look unnecessarily grubby, but the dark brown eyes under the glowering greying brows were keen and intelligent. He nodded curtly at the assembled bridge crew, and announced himself. "Raeburn, Karl, at your service, Enterprise."

"Dr. Raeburn," acknowledged Picard, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance. If you are prepared, a team is ready to transport to your co-ordinates and begin the analysis."

Raeburn nodded, and could be seen to run his fingers swiftly over the console before him. "You should be getting them right now, Enterprise."

Data said, "Information received, Doctor."

The geologist nodded once then terminated the contact, so that once more they could see 'Moon' and a fair view of the ring system.

Riker stared at the screen, at looked over at Deana who was frowning slightly, her pretty features marred somewhat by the expression. Picard was also looking at his counsellor expectantly, and was awaiting some sort of response to the brusque manner in which they had been treated. "Any thoughts on that, Deanna."

She lifted her brows, and blew out a little sigh. "He's preoccupied, but it wasn't clear what was uppermost in his thoughts." She shrugged slightly. "I get no sense of dissemblance from him, just aggravation."

Riker nodded. "Just bad tempered, then, Counsellor? Something we are all entitled to be every now and again."

Deanna looked at Riker and smiled in reply to his gentle teasing. "Maybe, Will."

* * *

Data relished talking to O'Brien, he found that the man had a remarkable grasp of engineering and could be relied upon to make interesting conversation, and the current talk of transporter coils was proving to be most enlightening. For this to be happening while he was waiting for his companions to arrive made the wait seem a little shorter. Data reflected that it was a truly fascinating phenomenon, the way that time could be seen to concertina in any direction given what a person was doing at any one time. He had thought this to be a purely human attribute, but it seemed he was also susceptible. Bearing this in mind, he compartmentalised it for future consideration.

Miles also enjoyed talking to Data, but at this point he was somewhat relieved to see La Forge and Worf walk through the transporter room doors. The chat had become progressively more rarefied until he was certain that the start of a pounding headache was underway. So the arrival of the two officers was greeted cheerfully.

"Afternoon, sirs," he chirped, and nodded a greeting to them as well.

"How are you, chief?" asked Geordi. "And how is that gorgeous bundle you had a few months ago?"

O'Brien looked pleased, and smiled at the thought of little Molly; fast asleep in her crib in the quarters he shared with Keiko. "Pleased to report that mother and baby are just fine, thank you, sir." He grinned a bit more widely at the discomforted Worf, whose expression had become stonier than usual, but could not resist asking, "When would you like to join us for dinner, Worf, because Keiko keeps asking me about it. I'd hate to disappoint her now."

Worf glowered slightly, but knew that his friend was making fun in that peculiarly human way and thought about the invitation seriously. "I will let you know," he hedged, thinking fast and hoping he could get away with this.

"Make sure you do," responded the Chief, who was now examining the transporter controls, but already planning a way of getting the Klingon to come for dinner. Worf might **think** he could avoid it, but he'd be wrong. He looked up, apparently satisfied with the readout. "Are you ready, gentlemen?"

"Affirmative," said Data, as the other two joined him on the pads.

* * *

Geologist Karl 'Digger' Raeburn was waiting for them as they coalesced on the transporter platform, the sparkling energy matrix solidifying into Starfleet officers. He made a polite bow in their direction, but wasted very little time in getting to the point.

As the three were moving to join him, he said, "Pleased to meet you. If you'll follow me I'll show you round the complex, such as it is, after we've suited up and taken a look at these damn things that keep popping up all over the place."

Data was curious. "Are these anomalies annoying then or in the way?"

"Depends what you mean by in the way or annoying," Raeburn said, heading off at a rate of knots and moving swiftly to the corridor. "More that we could be disturbing something important, and I don't want another Horta incident, thank you very much."

The "Horta" incident was well known in the annals of Starfleet, even though it had been satisfactorily concluded by Kirk and his crew, and was held up as an example of what **not** to do if you think you have a new sentient species on the block – so to speak. The Federation had been caught with its pants down a couple of times by not paying proper attention to clues that were, in the perfection of 20/20 hindsight, glaringly obvious. This was something the crew of the Enterprise were familiar with, having been in the unenviable position themselves of a discovery of an unexpected life form in an unexpected place. The scientist there, however, had had some awareness of what was going on and had decided to proceed despite his findings, unlike the poor fools involved with the Horta. A highly unethical and amoral attitude, as all had decided once the business had been concluded to everyone's satisfaction. Data could find no fault with the man's reasoning at all.

They trudged silently behind the scientist for a few hundred metres until Geordi was unable to keep quiet any longer. His curiosity got the better of him, and he asked the question he assumed everyone else wanted to know. "So… what do you guys do for entertainment round here?"

The geologist paused momentarily, but hardly missed a beat and ploughed onwards, and answered with a question of his own. "Why, what reason do you have to ask that?"

He moved towards a set of red doors that showed clearly the danger signs warning of imminent decompression if someone was so stupid as to ignore safety protocols, and running his hand over the controls at the front of them, grunted in satisfaction. They swung apart with a hiss once Raeburn had completed the safety measures.

As they went through into the bay, he stopped and looked hard at the three officers. Geordi almost squirmed on the spot, and Worf just looked as if he was disgruntled. Data was puzzled.

Raeburn considered, and then obviously thought they could handle the truth. "We get drunk. Very, very drunk, and then we go back to work after we manage to beat the hangover."

"A hangover?" repeated Geordi, slightly bemused. "You mean you have **real** alcohol?"

Raeburn allowed himself a cough. "Real, yes."

"But it is poisonous," said Data.

This time Raeburn laughed, and grabbing three environmental suits, threw them towards the officers. "No shit."

The suits skittered across the polished floor, but they grabbed them and managed to get them on. They were a good fit, and even the smell from inside them was cut to a minimum, as it seemed that the care of these vital pieces of equipment was also good.

'Always nice -" Geordi muttered, while struggling to get his legs into the suit - "not to have to put up with the smell of someone else's B.O."

Raeburn snorted. "We hose those bastards after every use. There ain't anyone on this ball of ice that wants a fungal infection to go with the boredom, especially as you don't get much time to scratch or even the room to do it in."

He finished climbing into his own suit, and then grabbed the tank that hung scant centimetres away, carefully going over each gauge, and checking the seals. Then he swung it on his back and watched with grudging approval, as the others were as thorough as was he. Even Data, he noticed, though the android did not really require such. The boots were put on last and tightened, then sealed, and the four of them made their way to the glider, jostling to get inside.

Once seated, Raeburn made a few adjustments to the interior lighting, and switched on the motor of the little glider and its reassuring purr throbbed through the hull. As it lifted he toggled one of the sliders on the flight console and the bay doors began to open. Outside, through the transparent aluminium screen, the vista of Moon began to appear. It was strangely, and quietly beautiful in a stark and inhospitable way. The thin atmosphere of methane and nitrogen filtered the reddish orange light from the star and planet that hung above into a pleasing combination of soft pinks and lilacs, with stark black shadows where boulders lay and vivid flashes of bleached bone white. It was a landscape of contrasts, for the most part, but Raeburn appeared immune to all of this and gunned the engine so that the craft flew forward, straight as an arrow towards their destination.


	2. Chapter 2

As the small craft shot across the bleak landscape, the habitat domes shimmered with their tightly held force fields

As the small craft shot across the bleak landscape, the habitat domes shimmered with their tightly held force fields and the oxygen rich atmosphere they had left behind, moving swiftly past and over a gorge that plummeted many hundreds of metres below them. At one side of the gorge were some crisp mountains, jutting as sharply as knives through the atmosphere and it was towards these that Raeburn headed, pushing the glider to even faster speeds; the three officers watched the ground swallowed as he deftly manoeuvred them past.

"You're an excellent pilot, Doctor," stated Worf, as the geologist veered sharply to the left, skimming a monstrous piece of ice that had seemed to lurch out of nowhere.

Raeburn grinned, baring his teeth so he looked a little feral, and in answer whipped some more speed out of the craft so that the others were thrown back into their seats as the inertia grabbed and held them like an iron fist.

"Fuck," muttered Geordi, under his breath but still loud enough that both Data and Worf could hear him. It earned him a raised brow from the android and an amused bark of laughter from Worf.

Eventually Raeburn slowed the glider down as they came to a large plain of snow and ice, dominated by a huge cryovolcano at about thirty kilometres distant from them. Even from where they were its slopes and scale were awe inspiring, the evidence of its most recent eruption solid reminders of the power this monster could spew forth.

"How active is that thing?" asked Geordi as the glider started to settle to the ground.

The geologist considered. "Not so bad. Maybe every two to three millennia, but this is part of the calderas we're sitting on" – he grinned again at Geordi's expression, and set about switching off the engines, gentling them down to a whine – "but don't worry too much 'cos the last big blow was recent - only a thousand years ago."

"Reassuring," muttered Worf and removed his safety belt. He rose, looking round the craft. "Helmets?"

"Over there in that compartment," Raeburn said. He got up out of the seat, stretched and edged past Geordi and Data, pressing on the concealed release that slid open to reveal four helmets for the environment suits. He handed them out to the others, placing his over his head and twisting till an audible click was heard, and then he ran his fingers very carefully round the neck area to ensure all the seals were in place. He didn't fancy the idea of breathing methane, not even for a second, and certainly not at the super-chilled temperatures that Moon had, though today was positively balmy at a mere –168C. Lastly he put on the thermal gloves, which were made of a polymer that was thin but insulating and allowed fine movement, something he always felt was useful.

"All geared up?" he asked, and the crackle of the internal communicators switched in so he could hear their affirmation. "Right then, gentlemen, let's get out and take a looksie at this here thing."

Entering the airlock singly was a pain in the arse, but the glider was not big enough to allow for the extra room, and besides, Raeburn was never one to waste fuel unnecessarily on a bigger machine when the smaller would do. Eventually they all stood outside, feet placed on the ice that was the greater part of the satellite's surface, riven by cracks that varied in depth and width. The day was warmer than it had been for many as the satellite was now passing into its spring phase, so there was a breeze stirring the atmosphere and there were clouds of methane moving in the red sky, building to great cumulous-like pillows, heralding the fall of snow later, or ammonia sleet perhaps. Raeburn led the way towards an object, a _number_ of objects, which seemed to be placed randomly, though juxtaposed, on the surface of the calderas.

The baleful glow of Alpha Draconis VII picked out shadows, both theirs and the objects as they moved towards them, loping quickly across the ground. As they reached the first Geordi put out a hand to touch the smooth surface and looked up at it, running his fingers over the surface, noting the way the thing appeared to be composed of ice – various types of ice, he hazarded – but also looked as if it was manufactured. It was certainly giving off some very interesting signatures that the VISOR was interpreting for him. He spotted Data was busy moving round the area, a tricorder in hand, as was Worf, collating data into a PADD as he hunkered down to examine the base of the monolith and how it was fixed there.

"What do you think?" Raeburn asked, watching the three officers as they collected information, and disseminated it between themselves. "I've had a bad feeling about this business for weeks, and because no one else on this rock is even remotely interested in anything except the drilling – or fighting or getting mashed, for that matter – it's been bloody impossible to get anything done."

The android came over to the geologist. "It is my opinion, Doctor, that these are probably not natural phenomena, but the product of alien species. My colleagues concur with this assessment. However, it would be wise for us to continue our examination of the samples aboard the Enterprise." He was very thoughtful for a moment, and then continued, "I am uncertain as to what the purpose of these items are; it is possible they may not be the creation of sentience."

Raeburn exploded, making an irritated sound. "Knew it. Damn it all to hell." He stared at the curios with hostility, as if by directing the heat of his aggravation at them they could be melted down to slag to blend into the landscape. "I have no idea why the xeno-biologists missed this one. Jeez, if you wanna job doing properly, do it yourself."

He stamped away, an impressive feat given the gravity, to take a look at a smaller object that was apparently new, and could be heard muttering various expletives about the ineffectualness of certain biologists and their lousy research methods. The officers exchanged a quick look between themselves, but it was Geordi who took pity on the geologist and went up to talk to him.

"Data did say they may **not** be related to sentience, Doctor", he offered, holding out a somewhat wilted olive leaf. He shrugged. "We won't really know until we get these samples back to the Enterprise… unless you've got suitable facilities here?"

Raeburn snorted with disdain. "Take a good look, Lieutenant, tell me what you see. Laboratories? Technical expertise, in the form of a crack team of scientists? Nah! Plenty of mine shafts – it's all about the credits after all – and three environmental domes. There's me, basically, and enough equipment to test for seismic activity and the ore… so that's fuck all, really." He considered. "Oh, I nearly forgot. The miners, oh yes, the miners. Remiss of me."

"Ah," said Geordi, not really grasping what was biting the scientist so firmly in the butt.

Raeburn watched the other man quizzically then seemed to deflate slightly, grasped the Chief Engineer on the shoulder briefly and sighed. "I apologise, Lieutenant, I have been rude and obstructive. It is the lack of concern for my possible findings and particularly the unwillingness to provide anything with which I might verify those findings."

Geordi nodded, gaining an insight into this man he had been hard pushed to understand previously. "That's gotta be frustrating."

"You have **no** idea."

Geordi was amused, and grinned at the geologist. "We need to get some larger samples to the ship, I think, Doctor -"

"Digger," he said, relenting at last as he had decided these men were ok by his book after all. Starfleet, you know, which meant there was some integrity there. "Take what you need. That little one I was just taking a look at seems to be the easiest to sample; the molecules aren't fused so tightly."

"Indeed," said Data, as he had overheard the conversation, "I believe this may be enough to examine thoroughly." He held up a piece of one of the objects that looked like gossamer, a strange thing that seemed to fade in and out as they looked at it, yet held a luminous property reminiscent of starlight. "I will contact the ship as it will require a force field to maintain it at the correct temperature, as well as any other environmental issues that may come to light."

"We don't want it to melt," Worf supplied, dryly.

Data frowned. "I believe that is what I just said, Worf."

Worf thinned his mouth and eyed his friend, tempted, almost, into a rejoinder, but considered the fallout thoroughly and decided it wasn't worth the trouble. He contented himself with contacting the Enterprise and barking some instructions at the team Data had assembled prior to their leaving. Sometimes, you just got payback on someone else's hide.

"So," said Raeburn, "have you gotta head back to the ship straight away?"

The officers looked at each other, a little surprised at this sudden turn of events. "Well, yes," said La Forge. "We thought you would like the results as soon as possible?"

"I haven't exactly been welcoming, have I," Raeburn said.

"No," agreed Worf quickly. He glared at La Forge who had just nudged him in the ribs.

Data tilted his head fractionally, and enquired, "Would you like us to join you, Doctor?"

The scientist gave a brusque nod. "That would be acceptable, gentleman." He gestured at the glider. "Shall we?"

They made their way back to the craft and settled themselves into the seats once more, thankful to have removed the helmets so they could catch a breath of air, recycled and filtered though it might be. Raeburn eased the craft from its resting place into a gentle flight, soon having her pose pointed back towards the environmental domes. She ate up the ground easily as quickly as before and they soon saw the airlock they had previously left via.


	3. Chapter 3

Once back in the shelter of the airlock, all four men climbed out of the glider's somewhat cramped interior with more than a modicum of relief. Divesting themselves of the suits came next, a tedious task especially as they required thorough cleaning at the end. That in itself was something that took longer than expected as the systems on Moon were old, cranky and generally in need of a complete overhaul. La Forge found himself irritated or amused, in turn, at what they had to do. It was something he wouldn't mind taking a look at to see if he could improve efficiency, once they were finished with those damn things on the surface. Maybe he'd ask Raeburn about it later.

The geologist, for his part, was busy checking over the little craft, making certain that she was in good nick for whoever used her next, an important task for such an out of the way community. Satisfied at last, he headed over to the doors leading into the interior of the dome, and waited while the others made their way to him.

"So you want to take a look at the facilities, gentlemen?"

"If, by facilities, you mean the bar, that's fine," said Geordi, deciding he wanted to take a look around after all. He was off duty, so why not and he knew that the other two were also, so they had no excuse.

Worf eyed La Forge consideringly. He would have preferred to go back to the Enterprise so that he could complete one or two little tests that needed a look at, after, of course, what he had to do with assisting Data and Geordi to find out what it was the specimen actually was. "Is that wise?" he asked gruffly.

Data tipped his head to one side in curiosity. "I would be interested, Doctor."

"Cool," responded the big geologist. "Follow me."

"Cool?" asked Data _sotto voce_ to his colleagues.

La Forge grinned, and shrugged, following Raeburn out into the corridor. Worf hesitated for a moment then followed also.

Raeburn had taken them to what he described as a 'tavern' that was linked by a long walkway to the main domes and it was very well used indeed. There were many people moving backwards and forwards along its length, some of them in a state the android found his attention riveted on. So much so that he had to stop and turn so he could watch two men as they propped each other up as they moved along to the environmental domes.

Worf was beginning to think the whole thing was a really bad idea, as several of the men looked more than a little combative. Not that he had anything against a good fight, it was just that when in uniform he felt he had to… well… behave in a more _appropriate_ manner. One that his Captain would have no reason to frown upon, for instance, ever, or that he could be called to task over. Picard's approval was a defining feature for Worf and, though he did not seek it, he would rather have it than the alternative.

Right now the four of them were sitting at a table in the tavern with glasses full of some fluid in front of them. The surroundings were grim, and squalid, and each of the glasses looked as if they were smudged with grease. It was not auspicious. Data picked up his glass and examined it.

La Forge took up his own glass, and gave a toast. "Here goes nothing." He cleared the glass in one mouthful, and swallowed it straight back – it proved to be a mistake. The liquid burned its way down his oesophagus, and then the fumes hit his delicate nasal linings with instantaneous results. He found he couldn't breathe, and started coughing.

Alarmed, Worf pounded his friend on the back, only stopping when Geordi put up his hand and shook his head. He finally managed to get a breath, and looking at the empty glass with renewed respect, he said hoarsely, "Thanks, Worf – but between you and that, I ain't certain what'll kill me first! _What_ the hell is that stuff?"

He turned to Raeburn, and watched with awe and no little envy as Raeburn drained his glass with no ill effect whatever. Worf sniffed suspiciously at the liquid, then knocked his back with little more than a slight rising of his brows. "Interesting," he growled, and smiled.

Raeburn grinned apologetically. "The local hooch. If I'd known you were gonna do that, I might have stopped you."

"Might have?" enquired the engineer, his eyes still watering.

Raeburn signalled and a bottle of the stuff was brought over; he poured himself another stiff glassful and picked it up. His eyes glinted over the rim, "Yeah… might have."

Data was examining the bottle cautiously, and he turned an accusing eye on the geologist. "This is alcohol. It is 75 pure."

"Yup," agreed Raeburn, swigging down another glass and grabbing the bottle to hand it to the Klingon who was also on his third glass. "You could prob'ly clean metal with it."

"It is illegal," Data declared levelly.

"That it is," agreed Raeburn, again. He squinted at the android. "You know, you sure have a keen mind there, Sherlock."

La Forge snorted, and Data looked at him. "Look," said the engineer to his friend, "the time honoured response to something like that is 'fuck you buddy'!"

Raeburn and Worf laughed. The geologist added, "Outta interest, I know this stuff is made locally, but I've never been able to find the still."

Worf swirled some of the noxious fluid in his glass round, staring at it thoughtfully. "You have your own supply?"

"Well…" drawled the geologist reluctantly, "kinda." He mulled it over. "Do you want some?"

Worf had to think about that as it was a tempting offer, but in the end he reluctantly shook his head; it was on one of those 'not a good idea' lists if you're a Federation Officer. "It could prove… er… _difficult_ to explain."

"This does explain Counselor Troi's impressions," Data noted. "She was under the impression that you were hiding something, or not being entirely truthful."

Raeburn sighed, and nodded. "The alcohol is difficult to hide, but I really have no idea where they are bringing it in from. It could be any part of the system as there is a pretty handy asteroid belt here too."

"There is much conjecture about the possibility of smugglers in this area."

"That is something I can't say I know anything about." Raeburn leaned forward confidentially, and Data followed his actions, "Definitely, Commander. I have no idea about smugglers."

"I am uncertain that you are being entirely truthful, Doctor," Data said.

Raeburn leaned back, looked at all three officers with a degree of innocence, and amused resignation. "What I know I cannot say, as I am guilty by association. Now, Lieutenant Worf, you are a security officer and if I was to make an admission wouldn't I be in deep shite unless I gave the whole lot to you."

"I prefer all the information," agreed Worf, "I dislike having to apply unnecessary pressure. It can be… tiresome." He gave a feral smile. "Sometimes."

"So we will do nothing about this?" asked Data.

"Not a damn, fucking thing," agreed Geordi. "C'mon, Data, if it was something that was really harmful don't you think that things would be done about this place? I reckon the company would've closed this shithole down in a heartbeat if any of their profit was being compromised."

"Oh, you can bet your sweet arsehole on that, brother," said Raeburn, and took another swig. He scanned the room over the rim of the glass. "Great… a fight."

There was indeed a fight starting, and as the tavern was filled to bursting point with drunken miners, each of them as mean spirited as a rattlesnake, it was as explosive as Semtex. The fuse was just being lit, and it would be a wise move indeed to vacate the place. Retiring to a safe distance was sometimes a good political move.

The antagonists numbered a good dozen, and the light flashed on a broken bottle being brandished as a weapon. Things were beginning to get nasty.

"What's the fight about?" enquired Data, craning to take a look.

"A woman," muttered the geologist, snatching up his unfinished bottle; he had plans for that later.

"I did not realise there were women here," Data said curiously; he was being hustled out of the place now by all of his companions.

"Not now, Data," said Geordi through gritted teeth. "Save it, will ya?"

The android allowed himself to be sped away from what was proving to be most interesting, but he was aware that Worf was occasionally looking back with some regret, and resolved to ask the Klingon about everything in greater detail later. He would also be making enquiries with all his other friends too.

They made their way back to the main dome, and Raeburn looked at them expectantly. "Time for you to go?"

"Yes," stated Worf. "We will contact you in due course, Doctor."

La Forge tapped his communicator. "Three to beam up."

Raeburn was left staring at the space they had been, then he remembered the bottle in his hand, and shrugging he made his way back to his quarters to continue with those plans.


End file.
